


Trembling Darkness, Slash, Hard R ,1/1

by PhoenixDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Non-Con, M/M, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just little things at first. The subtle twinge of want so gradual that Sam couldn't pinpoint when he had stopped admiring Dean and had started <i>admiring</i> Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trembling Darkness, Slash, Hard R ,1/1

It was just little things at first. The subtle twinge of want so gradual that Sam couldn't pinpoint when he had stopped admiring Dean and had started _admiring_ Dean. It wasn't just his body, or his hands, or the lean, muscled lines of his legs - it was the way he breathed, the way he smiled, the green of his eyes, the lush curve of his lips.

He couldn't tell you when he had stopped being so in awe and envy **of** Dean and had started to being awe and envy _for_ Dean - but he could feel the stirs of jealousy when his older brother attracted the attention of anyone that was not him or Dad (and even Dad was beginning to be a stretch). When girls leaned in close to kiss, to whisper, to just _touch_ him, when eyes (anyone's really) would follow _his_ Dean, drinking him in, appreciating his beauty, his wit, his obnoxious humor, Sam could feel the rage curl around his heart, and he was hard pressed to turn his head or walk away.

No, he didn't know when it started, but he could always feel it surge forward like an adrenaline rush or...or a whisper, really. One that would begin in the back of his head and work it's way around to his conscious thoughts like an itch he couldn't quite reach. It was unsettling, maddening - and he was sure that he was starting to go crazy.

He couldn't be in love with his brother. He just couldn't!

If he were, there would have been signs, BIG ones, a long, long time ago. _Beacons_ shouting to all and sundry that he wanted Dean underneath him, writhing and calling his name - but there had been nothing of the kind. Well, not until recently, anyway... Dean would have noticed, would have stopped him, would have gently nudged him in another direction if Sam was starting to think that way.

But he hadn't.

He _still_ didn't.

No - he just walked around being _Dean_. Smelling like leather, gun oil, stardust and cordite. Looking like a God descended among mortals, becoming more and more beautiful by the day as he filled out into the man that he would become. Dean was aware he was attractive - but he wasn't aware of just how _deeply_ attractive he was.

He still showered and came out with the towel slung low across his hips before tossing it at Sam and _dressing right in front of him_ \- like he always had, really. But Sam had never before wanted to rewind those moments and relish the sight of his brother's naked body. Dean still worked on the Impala in his tattered wife-beater, skin slick with oil and sweat, shining like a supernova under the blazing sun of a summer day. He still lounged around when not immersed in some activity, beer in one hand, bowed legs sprawled akimbo in a lazy, sensual stretch of limbs, the line of his throat working with each pull on the beer bottle.

It was all these things and so much more - millions of little tiny things that itched and burned and screamed wrongwrongWRONG...but it was so tempting, so wicked, so... _inevitable_. Barely a day passed that Sam didn't weep with want and need. He didn't know when that had happened either - the urge to grapple Dean and bend him to his will, to _make_ him see who he belonged to (to own him completely).

To say he was scared was an understatement.

 _Sam was fucking **terrified**_.

He held that feeling close, nourished it - cherished it, because the day he stopped feeling that fear, stopped thinking about how wrong it all was and started planning how to attain what he wanted? Well, that would be the end of it all, wouldn't it? Because he knew...he _knew_ Dean would fight him. He knew he'd have to actually physically hurt his brother to get what he wanted. And when that day came (and he prayed it never would) he might as well eat a bullet.

By hurting Dean, Sam would kill his whole world, because (well, let's just be realistic here) Dean had always been, always would _be_ , his world. This was the brother who raised him, who loved him, who made sure he got enough to eat, and had clothes to wear - who made sure he got to school on time. It was bad enough that he was already planning (scheming, plotting, devising routes) to leave, to take the scholarship at Stanford that he had been offered - and he was pretty sure Dean had a clue about it - but to destroy him in such a way? It was unthinkable, it was horrifying -

 _It was evil_.

But his understanding, his surety of what this would do to Dean, didn't stop the whispers, the slow destruction of his will. He had no idea when he had started to think of his brother in such a sexual way, but then the day came when he had no idea why he hadn't _always_ thought of Dean in such a way.

Resentment took hold, claimed permanent residence in his heart as Dean strutted around in clinging t-shirts and jeans that outlined every curve of his delicious legs (not to mention that tight ass). Sam began to resent those touches that Dean always laid on him - the shoulder pats, the hair ruffles, the one-armed hugs that were all for him (never anyone else); he was beginning to be sure that all those standard gestures of affection were only meant to show him what he couldn't have.

The way he would put a bottle of beer, or a soda straw to those full, lickable lips and drink - the way his throat worked when he did it - the lazy lean of his body when he was contented, the hard lines of his shoulders when he was tense or angry.

All of it was designed (he was beginning to be sure) to teaseteasetease. Dean was a shameless slut - and his brother was never going to just lay down and give Sam what he wanted, what was _owed_ to him - what he **needed**. Dean was just going to keep pretending to be oblivious. He was going to keep pretending that he didn't know that his every move, every breath, every quirk of an eyebrow, every slow smile, every twist of his lips and shift of his hips wasn't driving Sam mad with want. Dean was just going to keep doing it - breathing, smelling good, looking good - being _Dean_ and at the same time he would just keep Sam at arms length, would keep him from burying himself in Dean's tight, tight heat and biting his marks into that broad chest and delectable neck.

That was the tipping point.

He stopped being afraid of being found out because he was damn sure it was deliberate - that Dean _made_ Sam want him - and he was now withholding what his body, what his smile, what the quick shine of those eyes promised.

It was a mistake Sam was determined to rectify, as soon as he found the time was right. He started planning, strategizing in a way that would have made his father proud and Dean beam in soft joy if they knew...but that was the trick wasn't it? Getting what he deserved, what he needed (what was _promised_ to him) without them ever suspecting a thing.

Somewhere deep inside, the whisperwhisperwhisper of maddening WANT chuckled and withdrew, leaving Sam to the insanity of his calculations. Soon, he would have Dean - and there wouldn't be a damned thing any of them could do about it.

 **0-0-0**

It was less than a week after he gathered everything he needed that it all fell into place for him. He really couldn't have planned it better if he had tried.

For the first time in a long time (it seemed) Dad had found a hunt that was going to keep him away for a week at least. It was a one man-job, so he would be leaving Dean behind to keep an eye on their shabby apartment, to keep up appearances for them...and of course, to keep an eye on Sam. Dad clearly expected a fight and looked almost suspicious when he didn't get it, but Sam was too excited at the prospect of having Dean all to himself to keep up the pretense of being pissed. He couldn't stay in the same room with his brother and father without blowing the whole gig though, so he scowled and flounced off to his rinky-dink room immediately after Dad made the announcement, only slouch out when called to eat the dinner that Dean had prepared for them all.

Dean cornered Sam in the bedroom an hour after supper and Sam pretended to be unsurprised at Dad's plan for the hunt, adding a few zingers about how he 'didn't expect the man to hang around and watch grass grow anyway - or spend time with his kids for longer than a summer'. His words (couched in a careful display of flippancy and boredom) seemed to appease Dean, since they were more in line with what was expected, even if Dean'd anticipated them at a louder level and more anger.

In return... Dean?

Well, Dean expressed the need to spend some time as just Sam and Dean, Dean and Sam - it had been nice and all, spending time with the old man, but he missed the days of just him and his brother against the world. Sam wasn't sure how he'd managed to keep the smug satisfaction at Dean's response from showing, but it was an effort to keep the urge to grin from ticking to life and giving him away. Dad seemed to be a bit miffed by their attitudes, but it didn't deter him from making lists, barking orders and issuing supply runs for his upcoming Hunt - and Sam was more than happy (for once) to be included.

If he didn't keep himself busy, he might wind up blowing the whole thing and get shot for his troubles. He had every thing he needed. Everything was laid out and ready for the moment Dad stepped out the door. Patience wasn't really his strong suit (never had been) - but he had held off jumping his brother all summer. A few more hours wouldn't kill him (he hoped) - it just meant he had to make a few trips to the bathroom to take the pressure off when it got to be too much. Just a few minutes at a time and a few images of what he planned to do to his brother and he'd be coming so hard he was sure he'd have a heart attack if he kept this up. Soon, he promised himself, soon it wouldn't be an issue any more.

It seemed like days before Dad left, but really it was only a mere six hours after he had told them about his hunt. Sam was practically dancing with suppressed glee by the time their father left and he found he had to really fight to hold himself in check until he could get the ball rolling.

Dean asked him to come hang out on the couch and watch some TV before they crashed for the night and Sam happily agreed, even fetching Dean a beer before sitting down, a cola clutched tightly in his own hand.

It didn't take long for the drugs to start working. Dean had drained the beer in less than fifteen minutes flat - and though Sam almost wanted to warn his brother about how that wasn't such a good idea, he was too afraid of tipping his hand to say anything.

Soon, all too soon, Dean was a limp, boneless sprawl on the couch, those perfect lips parted just-so as he panted for breath, legs open and inviting, just begging for Sam to crawl up the length of his body and put it to good use...but there was no need to rush. He had all the time in the world and then some besides to use his brother in every way he could think of. He knew what he wanted the first time to be like.

In the end it really didn't take as long as he had planned for, a few minutes to get Dean's loose, unresisting body into his room, mere _seconds_ to strip Dean of those damnable tight jeans and soft, clinging shirt, a blink to pose Dean spread out invitingly on his sheets. He stopped to admire the sight but for only a moment. Despite how smoothly everything was falling into place, he was too afraid of Dean rousing from the deeply drugged state and either pleading with him and breaking his resolve, or fighting him and breaking his face. Either one of those was not a stellar option, but he did have a few delicious moments that he could just watch, maybe even caress, before he had to fear that little scenario becoming reality.

So he did. He loomed over his brother's prone form to drink in the tanned flesh, the sleekly defined muscles under that flawless stretch of skin, legs lightly dusted with hair that ran to a darker patch in Dean's pubic region, Dean's dick laying soft, but tempting, across the angled plane of his right hip. He looked like sin - those soft lips shining with saliva and pinkish red from being bitten (a habit Dean had when he was thinking).

Sam's only regret was not being able to see Dean's eyes, but soon he would. Soon he would see them and see the understanding, the realization - the _fear_ when Dean caught on to what was happening. They would become liquid with pain, Sam knew, then blown with reluctant lust as Dean's body gave in to Sam's demands of it. Both would be delicious, both would be uprooted and drawn out for his own viewing pleasure.

For a moment Sam was bothered by this. To lust after Dean was one thing (as odd as that sounded), but to see him in pain? He had never thought he could be so cold, could be so cruel as all that. But when he looked around, looked at his brother's limp body and the restraints he was planning to use to keep Dean pliable - he realized it would take a cold and cruel person to plan such a thing, much less to execute it.

During that moment, in the midst of that revelation he knew true fear, his mind working and working on _when/where/how_ \- but then that soft whispering that was such a part of him now began again, and he let it lull him into complacency, let it soothe away the doubt and the terror. He did as it commanded and bent to touch, to run his fingers along Dean's tight flank, shivering at the silky feel of his skin under the light graze of his hand. He knew what Dean felt like, what he smelled like, what he looked like - but this was a whole new realm, a whole new way of knowing and he was going to enjoy every second of it. Soon, he would be the only one to know Dean in all the ways his brother was or could be Dean - and that thought brought such fierce satisfaction, such terrible joy, that he dismissed the nagging question of what came after this, and whether Dean would let him stay close, let Sam know Dean at all, once this was done.

It was all lost in the sheer horrendous pleasure of caressing his brother's unconscious body, the stir of his cock in his jeans as he gently, almost reverently, restrained those beautiful limbs; leaving enough room where he could maneuver Dean into any position he wanted, but leave his brother very little room to fight back. The reality he had dreamed of was almost upon him - soon he would know the taste of Dean's cum, fill Dean's tight hot ass with some of his own - and get that gorgeous mouth acquainted with the feel of his cock as it slid down his throat. It would feel wonderful. It would be heaven on _earth_ to hear his pained noises as he gagged and choked on Sam's dick, the hear him **beg** as he broke under Sam's pounding thrusts deep, deep inside his silken heat...

 _Heaven..._

Dean started to come around a few minutes later, groggy and confused, and it was all Sam could do not to kiss those full lips and suck on that lean jaw. He was so beautiful - everything that was right and wrong with the world - and Sam needed him to be awake to know the bitter taste of his own destruction.

"Wha...wha'? Saaaam? Waazz h'ppning?"

Sam moaned deep in his throat and unbuttoned his jeans, plans and schemes out the window as Dean panted into the muggy heat of his bedroom, eyes glazed and faraway as Dean tried to process what was going on. He needed Dean awake, he needed Dean aware - and he needed that full mouth wrapped around his dick like a drowning man needs oxygen.

"Sshhhh, Dean - it's okay." He whispered, voice low and soothing in the booming hush of the bedroom. "It's all gonna be okay, just...just open your mouth for me, alright?"

Still dazed and muddled looking, Dean complied, his tongue sweeping out slowly to wet his lips as he parted them. Taking in the sight of Dean's mouth, glossy and pink with the shine of saliva as it stretched open, Sam had to bite back a keening cry, his eagerness and lust almost doing him in right there.

"God, yes..." he breathed, biting his own lips to keep from screaming out loud in black joy. "You were made for this - _knew_ you wanted this."

Dean looked like he was going to say something, looked like he was going to ask what was going on, but Sam never gave him the chance. He crawled up the length of Dean's toned, lean body and settled his hips right over that inviting yawn, pinning Dean's arms with his knees and gripping the headboard as he pushed the head of his cock between those come-fuck-me lips. He groaned aloud as he was surrounded by wet, clinging heat, his head gliding over the rough-soft slick of Dean's tongue.

Dean's eyes snapped wide and he bucked under Sam's legs, trying to push Sam out of his mouth with his tongue, but only succeeding in pulling him deeper, Sam's dick inching in fast until it hit the silky lining of Dean's throat. Gagging, Dean twisted his body under the sprawl of Sam's legs, choking on the thick cock in his mouth, saliva curving out along the press of his lips to trickle down his chin.

"C'mon Dean - quit acting like you don't know what to do," Sam hissed in a pleasant tone. "Suck, and maybe I'll return the favor - but one warning. You bite me, and I'll rip your eyes out and feed them to you before I suffocate you with my cock."

Dean choked, his throat vibrating with sound as he moaned his horror around the flesh plugging his mouth. Sam gritted out a bark of pleasure and pulled out only to slam back in, movement rough and instinctive, relishing the agonized coughs and muffled gasps Dean keened out as Sam fucked those sinful lips.

"That's it, Dean...fucking tease - always fucking teasing but never putting out. Well, you'll be putting out today, unngghhh, _fuck_ \- I guarantee it. Suck me - do it! It might make me cum faster and maybe I'll even let you swallow it. Bet you'd like that, you fucking slut."

Dean choked again and tried to plead, but he could barely draw breath enough to do as he was told, confusion morphing slowly into horror as he realized he wasn't having a nightmare - that all of this was real. Sam watched as understanding bloomed to life in Dean's eyes, the delicious dawning of reality paling his features as it was brought home that his baby brother had him trussed like a Christmas turkey and was riding his face like it was made for him to do just that.

It really didn't take long in the end. Sam could feel his orgasm building and though he felt a small pang of disappointment that it was happening so fast, he was so eager to get to Dean's ass it was a fleeting pang at best. He slowed his thrusts, drinking in the drag and pull of Dean's mouth as Dean fought for air.

The rush of heated oxygen and the wet, warm writhing of his tongue was too much to take and after mere minutes Sam exploded, jets of cum pouring down Dean's throat as he thrashed under his brother's weight, his cries muffled as he alternately gulped for air and swallowed each wave of hot jizz, the reaction automatic as his body tried to take in enough oxygen to keep him this side of conscious. Sam made sure to pull out even as his cock still pumped. Spatters of warm, white cum sprayed across Dean's face and chin to drip thickly down his neck and pool across his chest.

It was the hottest thing Sam had ever seen.

Dean's eyes fluttered open, his throat working as he tried to get past the bitter flood that clogged it, his chest heaving as he gulped down oxygen in dragging, choked breaths. His eyes were liquid with shock and pain, his mind obviously still too groggy to really catch up with what had happened, even as Sam's cum cooled on his chest, droplets of it clinging to his thick, ridiculously long lashes.

Sam moaned again, his post orgasmic haze seeping away at the sight of Dean's decorated face, his lust surging through the beat of his blood with a surprising swiftness, his cock already giving a twitch of interest at Dean's debauched, fucked out features. His brother's mouth was red and bruised looking. That suckable tongue swept out to wet his lips, to taste the cum that layered the lower half of his face in diagonal, fat stripes.

Sam growled in possessive want, his fingers digging cruelly into Dean's jaw. Holding his mouth open, he licked his way inside, tasting the salty tang of his spunk along with the unique, sweet taste of Dean. He dragged his tongue along one of Dean's cheeks, lapping at the art he had made, the taste of it mingled with the taste of Dean's skin, driving him into a frenzy as he rutted against Dean's exposed hip, pleased when he felt Dean's dick take interest. Fresh bruises bloomed along Dean's jaw as Sam's fingers tightened, any protests he might have made lost as he struggled to close his jaw, to pull away from the thick length of Sam's cock as it glided along the hollowed plane of Dean's hip.

"Fucking whore," he rasped, grinning his pleasure against the side of Dean's neck as he bit a mark hard enough to make Dean yelp in pain. He soothed away the sting with broad swipes of his tongue. The plea in Dean's eyes - to understand, to have Sam explain - was clear even as Sam rose back up to his knees, prying Dean's mouth further open to stuff his half-hard dick inside.

He mercilessly held Dean's jaws wide apart, pulling back to rub the flesh of his cock around those lips with a humming, absent pleasure, relishing the slick, hot-cool of Dean's tongue, the roof of Dean's mouth, as he fucked lazily between his brother's lips, each stuttered gasp for air breezing across his reawakening flesh, heating his blood in sheer, malicious excitement.

"Now," he rumbled soothingly, his unoccupied hand stroking through Dean's short spikes of hair. "Now, I'm gonna have you suck me again, okay? Don't fight it, big brother - this is for your own good...need to be nice and wet for what I'm gonna do next."

Dean's eyes widened in panic, the sudden flash of understanding paling his skin and sharpening his gaze as his mind battled the drugs that fogged his thinking and leadened his limbs. He renewed his struggle with extra vigor, twisting his upper torso around in an attempt to dislodge Sam, head whipping back and forth wildly, trying to shake the grip Sam had on his jaw.

Sam sighed, impatient now and frustrated with Dean's lack of cooperation - his older brother's bullheaded resistance taking the edge off of his lust.

"Now, now - none of that," he barked. Tightening his grip on Dean's hair with a yank, he was smugly satisfied when Dean's eyes watered in pain. He soothed his hand through the tangle he had created before casually slapping his right cheek, the sound like a whipcrack in the stifling confines of the bedroom. "Be good, behave - and I won't choke you with it. Be sure to get it nice and wet though - cause I don't want to tear you up the first time I fuck you."

Dean moaned, trying once again to yank his head out of Sam's grip, too panicked and frightened (and ohhh, how lovely THAT was) to do more than plead incoherently through the crushing grip Sam had on his jaw.

"Nice and wet," Sam admonished. "Get me prepped for your tight ass - I can take you dry, but I think neither one of us really wants that, do we?"

Dean shook his head carefully as Sam let go of the hinge of his jaw, his gaze never leaving Sam's face as he reluctantly surrendered to his little brother's will. Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes as he pursed his lips around Sam's cock, his eyes pleading for mercy - but when Sam gave no indication of granting his wish, he took a deep breath and another, then began to tentatively suck. Sam damn near growled with delight and pleasure, his dick coming awake again as Dean's tongue brushed against the sensitive underside - Dean was making him wet...doing as instructed.

He watched in fascination as Dean shut down, the process seemingly as fast as an eyeblink, though it took forever for those beautiful eyes to lose focus and go dim. Sam was too rapt to jar him out of it, his brother's fractured turmoil a delicious triumph in itself; Dean's body and mind waging a war they were never prepared for.

Dean was still there, still cognizant to some extent as he licked and sucked at the flesh in his mouth, but somehow he had managed to disconnect himself from what was happening to him. Sam knew he couldn't let that last long - couldn't let that become a habit, but for now, he'd let Dean labor under the delusion that he was safe inside his own mind...as long as he did what he was instructed. There was plenty of time to force Dean back to reality and to break his older brother to his whim.

He fucked slowly down Dean's throat, floating on his own thoughts, bemused at the shift and stretch of muscles as Dean got used to the repititous treatment, taking note of Dean's tense shoulders and their startling contrast to the shuttered emptiness of those green, green eyes.

Sam had never seen anything more fucking perfect.

He sucked on two of his fingers, getting them thoroughly wet and dripping before jamming them recklessly in between Dean's legs, the head of his cock still being worked even as Dean keened in agony, brought to jarring awareness as his insides gripped Sam's fingers tight, clenching against the sudden shock of being violated. Sam pushed his fingers gorgeously deep, marveling at the heat, the softness, the _tightness_ of that ass as it fought back against the intrusion.

He pulled them out, waiting a second before sliding them back in to the second knuckle, his upper body twisted to watch as the head of his dick disappeared into Dean's inviting mouth. His fingers fucked into his brother at a faster pace, Dean's body loosening against the invading digits the longer he worked Dean open, a deep moan erupting from him (surprising them both) as Sam's fingertips hit something buried inside, making his older brother's cock jump and fill.

"Knew it," Sam panted, pulling his cock out of the press and clutch of Dean's throat. "Gonna make you cum off of my dick, older brother - gonna have you _howling_ for more. Then maybe - just _maybe_ I'll let you fuck MY mouth..wonder if your cum tastes as sweet as your lips."

He rubbed his fingertips against that spot deep inside Dean's clenching ass and was rewarded with another chest-rumbling moan, his brother's eyes wonderfully alive and _there_ as he sucked harder in response, the action as reflexive as it was pleading. Dean's hips unconsciously canted to give him better access, legs falling open, spreading himself wide for Sam's attentions, those expressive eyes flickering between horror, pain and pleasure as he writhed in his chains, the muted rattle-clink of them just as much a turn on as the jerky roll of his hips.

"Fucking slut," Sam breathed, squeezing the base of his dick to keep himself from getting too excited as he slithered down Dean's body, pausing long enough to suck the head of Dean's cock into his mouth. His tongue flicked over the cleft, gathering the precum beaded at the tip, humming his pleasure as the taste of Dean exploded across the roof of his mouth. Dean groaned hoarsely, fighting to keep still, fighting to distance himself from his own traitrous reactions, as Sam played with his cock, eager fingers back to plunge in and out of his ass.

With a reluctant moan, Sam released Dean's dick from the warm clutch of his mouth, pulling himself up to look at the perfection of his brother's limp body, Dean's eyes vacant and shamed as he bit his lips bloody to keep himself from making any further noise, that full mouth pulled into a trembling bow as he tried to escape the pull of Sam's gaze. "Gonna make you beg, big brother - God, you taste fucking **gorgeous**. Wanna suck your dick so bad...but first things first."

He spat into his hand and ran it over his aching, hard flesh trying to lube himself up again. Stopping to play with Dean, to watch him fight the pleasure that rocked through him, was fun - but it left Sam with a dilemma of sorts. He had taken too much time to nip and suck at Dean's cockhead, and all of his brother's beautiful efforts at getting him wet enough to be fucked kinda evaporated along with any of Dean's dreams of this being a nightmare and nothing more.

Dean whimpered, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip mashed between his teeth, his face turned away as Sam leaned over his torso, the head of his dick lined up against that tightly puckered hole, lightly, lightly brushing, a threat and a tease all at once. The younger Winchester lapped at the drying cum on Dean's abdomen, rocking just enough to tease himself with the feel of Dean's ass cheeks, the head of his cock clamped between them as his brother tried (and failed) to keep him out.

"Fight me, big brother," he breathed, moaning a little as the tip of his dick breeched that sinful hole. "Unngghhhhh, fight me - make this sweeter. I'll even let you scream - but not too loud. We don't want to get the neighbors upset, do we?"

" _Sam..._ -" Dean started to plead, but was stopped by Sam clamping a hand over his mouth, the grip crushing his lips closed and forcing his head back down against the mattress as Sam shifted his body, his superior height looming over Dean's helpless form.

"I said I'd let you scream," Sam panted, his excitement poundingpoundingpounding through his blood. Dean tried to shake him off, eyes shining and wide with terror and that odd semi-detached resignation, eyes emptying as he tried to retreat inside his own head once more. "But begging will be saved for later - don't you ignore me, Dean - I want you enjoying this...Every...Last...Inch of it."

With that statement he pushed, slowly but relentlessly, into that clenching, elastic heat. Dean's ass purred apart like silk as he plunged inside, shaking with restraint as he made Dean feel every centimeter of his cock as it invaded his sweet, tight ass.

Dean's eyes flew open with the first thrust, agony written in every line of his face as he threw his head back, tendons in his throat taut and straining as he tried to draw breath. Dean's whole body tightened, eyes wide, yet unseeing as he screamed against the prison of Sam's palm as his younger sibling forced his way inside of him. Sam knew he was no lightweight in the cock department, his dick matching his own over-grown proportions - so he was damned sure that Dean's pain was real - though he could find no sympathy for his brother as Dean's ass clenched and rippled around his aching flesh.

"Such a fucking cocktease," Sam whispered hoarsely, relishing the writhe of Dean's body against him as his brother shook with the agony of that huge cock pressing ever deeper inside his hole, every effort Dean made to push him out only sinking Sam deeper inside. Dean planted his feet and tried to wrench himself out from under Sam, only to be stopped by the shackles around his ankles. His twisting and bucking only succeeded in seating his brother's dick more firmly into the heated clutch of his body.

" **Fuck**!" Sam keened, thrusting the last two inches of his dick into Dean's ass with a careless shift of his hips, panting his pleasure against the taut curve of Dean's throat. His brother howled voicelessly into his hand, tears of disbelief and pain streaming unchecked from his eyes as he went limp, the fight gone out of him before Sam had really even started the party.

"Don't pretend you don't want this, Dean - strutting around, flashing this pert ass for everyone to admire, to want...You've been _begging_ for this! You know you have. Stop fighting me, asshole and let me give you the cock you need so bad, huh?" Sam rolled his hips, giving them a vicious twist - his voice a scraping growl of angry sound against the smooth flesh of Dean's neck. "Fucking teasing me all the fucking time - you know what you've been doing to me, you _know_! Well now, now it's time to pay the piper, big brother..."

He pulled out halfway and thrust back in, noting how Dean's hips jumped when he did so and correcting his angle to brush against that spot he had found with his fingers a few minutes before. Once he thought he'd found the right area to apply pressure, he pulled away slowly, dragging his dick through the flutter of Dean's muscles. He plunged back in just as slowly, pleased when Dean bucked into it. Dean's next cry colored with horror as Sam hit that sweet spot deep inside, making Dean's cock strain against Sam's weight as it twitched from the sensation.

"Oh fuck..." Sam gritted, rocking deep until his balls were snugged up against those perfect cheeks. "Fuck... _fuck **yeah**_ \- c'mon Dean, give it to me - show me what a fucking slut you are. Ride my dick, you know you want to - your body can't lie. Gonna make you cum, gonna make you beg me to fuck you harder... _fuck_..."

Dean grunted a painful counterpoint as Sam began to fuck him in earnest, Sam's body flush against him forcing Dean's legs out impossibly wide, one hand under Dean's body to lift him into each slam of Sam's dick.

The rhythm was more of a rock than a glide, Sam too lost in the gripping, sliding heat of Dean's ass to pull all the way out each time. Dean's cock rubbed and burned along Sam's abs as Sam undulated sinuously against the splayed lines of his brother's body. Finally, the friction without and the friction within proved too much for Dean to hold back any longer. Dean began thrusting up into each downward stroke, pleasure seeping in to wash away the lines of pain that had creased and marred his beautiful face ever since Sam had taken that first tentative stroke inside his body.

Sam burrowed impossibly deep each time, his mouth finding another pleasure point against Dean's collarbone, teasing more reactions out of his brother.

His brother keened and wept against Sam's hand, bruises blooming across Dean's mouth from the pressure of his iron grip. Pleased, Sam clamped down harder the heat of Dean's abused flesh combined with the hollow, snatched gasps for air warming his palm in countertime to his thrusts. Sam's teeth and tongue worried at Dean's neck, his other hand crept over his older brother's abdomen, pressing until he could feel the hard line of his cock through the taut, sculpted muscle of Dean's stomach. He moaned his approval before scraping his fingernails against the sensitive flesh of Dean's dick, loving the way it jumped under his touch, tip leaking more pre-cum into the deep hollow of his navel.

"Gonna lick that out, soak up the taste of you and make you suck my tongue after...but first, I'm gonna make you cum off of my dick alone. Gonna make you get on your hands and knees and _beg_ me to fuck you. I've got all week, brother...all week to take everything you've been promising with your body outta your fine, tight ass, and then...then I'll find a way to do it all over again, you fucking slut." He pounded deep with each word, forcing Dean to rise into each thrust, each pained sound, each twitch of his restrained body driving Sam to go faster, harder. He chuckled low in his throat as Dean thrashed and moaned, his brother's flesh slick and hot to the touch, gliding easily under him with each punch of his hips.

Dean's hips started to stutter in sync, spastic bursts of movement as his orgasm neared. Sam's rhythmic, stabbing glide brushed that sweet spot over and over, driving Dean to the edge, his toes curling against the sheets as his body bowed against the chains weighing him down.

"That's it...that's it, Dean - fuck me! Come on, big brother, _come on_ \- I wanna see you cum, wanna hear you scream my _name_ , you slut!" Dean shrieked against the tent of his fingers, his eyes rolling wildly as he tried to fight the sensations sweeping through him. His ass clenched and pulled against Sam's cock as he whimpered in muted denial. Tears of agony and horror spilled afresh down the hollowed plains of his cheeks, wetting Sam's hand as he tried to retreat from the relentless drive of Sam's hips, tried to escape the reality of the hell that had descended on him.

"Bet you like being called a slut, don't you? Filthy cocktease. Getting what's comin' to ya - aren't you? That's it, oh god, _yes_ \- milk it Dean, make me cum you whore..." Sam muttered more depraved insults against the curved hollow of Dean's throat, moaning in excitement as his body jumped under the assault, every muscle tight and trembling as he shouted hoarsely, each shrill yelp wetly muffled by Sam's hand as he trembled and shook.

Sam knew when he gave up the fight. Dean's whole torso seized as though electrified, shoulders and hips racked with strain as his orgasm sheeted through him, cum jetting up between the press of their bodies as he came. The only sound he was capable of making was a high-pitched, keening cry as Sam fucked roughly into the tight clench of his ass, biting into his shoulder and chest as he hissed disgusting obscenities into the sweat slicked line of Dean's throat.

"Told you-you f-fucking slut...gonna make you cum off my cock alone, then fill your ass up like you've been begging for all _year_. GOD, yes, like that, oh, yeah. Keep wiggling Dean, _fuck_ yeah! I'm gonna give it to you, patience big brother..." He grunted thickly against Dean's jaw-line. His thrusts became erratic as he rode that gripping, silken hole to his own climax. He yanked his hand away from Dean's slack, moaning lips in order to get a better angle to stab in him.

He raised Dean's thighs higher, only being stopped from folding his older brother in half by the chains that cut into his ankles. His hands slid down to pull Dean's cheeks apart, to open him up for the last few desperate and messy slams of Sam's dick. He buried himself to the root when he pulsed his own load of hot spunk deep into his brother's bleeding, abused hole. A hoarse groan squeezed through him as he came, his nails biting into the curves of his brother's perfect ass.

The distinctive sound of a shotgun being cocked forced awareness back long before he was ready, cold fury thrilling over him like a dash of cold water. The weapon was pointed at his head. He almost lashed out in frenetic rage, but that powerful urge to punish whomever had disturbed him was overridden by the well trained, deeply seated instinct to duck, to dodge the gun that hovered near his temple.

With a speed that stunned even him, he ripped his cock from Dean's limp, unresisting body. His brother barked a hoarse scream as a flood of pink-tinged cum followed, spraying the sheets as he writhed in his chains.

Focused on the immediate threat, Sam hardly paid his brother any mind, everything narrowing down to the extra presence that had entered the room. Barely noting the startled, sickened rage that colored his father's dark eyes almost black, he twisted around and batted the shotgun from his father's hand. The horror at the travesty Dad had walked in on was evident in the grim line of his mouth, the tense bunch of his shoulders, the smooth ease with which Sam was able to disarm him.

Everything slowed to a halt, time sucking out of the room to collapse behind Dad's eyes, as he took in the carnage his youngest son had wreaked on his oldest.

Dean's soft, hitching sobs were a counterpoint to drive the whole fearsome mess home.

"What the - what the _fuck_?!" John whispered, his voice a strangled rasp of sound as he eyed the chains that held Dean splayed on the bed.

Pinkish-red pooled underneath Dean, as he tried to curl away from his father's gaze. Dad's voice had momentarily jarred him back to himself, the awareness seemingly unwanted as that empty, glazed looking sank back into his face, dulling the green of his eyes, as he retreated from Dad's piercing sweep of assessment.

Dad seemed to be stunned, unable to come up with even the slightest plan of action, his whole being still as stone. The deathly silence that filled the room after Dad's initial shocked out burst, showed the eldest Winchester's weakness, his vulnerability when faced with such an impossible scenario. It was the first time in Sam's life he had seen such a thing. It suddenly struck him as intensely hilarious and he laughed, a high, sweet sound that belied the hellish scene. The tone was horrifying in and of itself and it forced their father to take an involuntary step back.

Dean moaned in terror, his mind too shattered to comprehend what was happening, the drugs still lingering and clouding his perception. He probably thought Dad was just going to turn away, to leave him to his fate. Sam had to smother giggles at this thought, though he was as unsure as Dean on that score - Dad was not known for being predictable. Their father flicked a look between them before locking on the dark smile that lingered on Sam's face. Sam carefully kept his eyes clear and unassuming, though he was sure the twist of his mouth denoted nothing but vile intent.

"Want some, Dad?" Sam chuckled softly, aware each word was a fresh cruelty. "I'm sure now that I have him down, you'll want to hit it - who can resist? Sorry, it'll be sloppy seconds, but I had to break him in hard - he's a _tough_ little bitch."

"Get...get _out_ ," John rasped, he looked like he was fighting the urge to be sick as his brain finally caught up to what he was looking at.

They were all frozen in their respective positions, no one wanting to move, to break the tension that throbbed like a broken heartbeat through the room. It was like a an echo or...or a whisper - yes that was it, a whisper.

 _He knows...he knows this is your destiny. The evil you wrought here is just the beginning - he knows, but he's not telling. He knew something like this would happen, but he let it happen anyway, didn't he? You just tied down and raped your_ brother _\- and though you dad's just standing there, looking like he's going to puke - he's not really that surprised, is he?_

Sam's smile faltered for a mere second, confusion trying to overtake the fear, the bliss, the righteous anger that was his to dispense. Words sifted through his mind like shards of smoked glass, each one ripping, tearing his thoughts away, replacing them with hate.

 _They don't love you - they never have. And now? Now, they never will..._

Sam almost choked on that last thought, that last idea. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true - Dean...

His brother. He raped his brother - how could Dean still love him (if he ever did)? The words-thoughts-truths were right, they had never loved him and now they couldn't.

Sam was left shaken and enraged, forced to swallow his agony as he waited out what had once been his family - what he was damned sure were now enemies. He steeped his soul in the horror of what he had done, wrapped himself in the urge to hurt, to maim, knowing this was truly all he had left.

The shotgun clattered on the floor as Dad took a shuffling step forward, the explosive noise making Dean abruptly jerk in his chains, rattling them loudly in the thick stillness. A low, monotonous keening tumbled from his frozen lips, as he instinctively startled away from the sound. His normally bright, vivid eyes were lifeless and empty as he reacted with an animal's stupid fear, his shoulders trembling as he yanked against his restraints.

"Get... _get out_ , you fucking asshole," Dad yelled, voice hoarse with bleeding darkness. "Get the fuck out! Dean - **fuck**! Stop it son, you're gonna - gonna -" _hurt yourself_ was left unsaid as John clenched his fists, waffling between launching himself at Sam and forcibly restraining his oldest so he couldn't dislocate his shoulders with his violent attempts to escape.

Murder breathed through the stuffy, super-heated air as he took a stuttering step in Sam's direction, the chill of betrayal making his eyes blacker than midnight as his mind leapt to a decision.

"See Dean? Even now - he'll pick me over you every time." Sam cackled, using Dad's hesitant pause to his advantage. His father's cheeks colored in shame and rage before draining to a pale white as the implications of his statement sank in. His next move was too slow and Sam darted around him, jacket and wallet in hand and ass out the door before his father could fully process the fact that he _had_ moved.

Sam's last look at the broken mess that was his family was a horror in itself - his father was standing frozen over the wildly thrashing, naked form of his older brother, Dean's choked and broken cries filling their ears as Sam made his way to the door.

The very last thing Sam heard was Dean's hoarse bark of denial, of panic, desperately pleading with their father to not give chase, to not hunt Sam down. Dean's ingrained, stupidly superior, protective instincts were surging over the cocktail of drugs and pain (nevermind the mind-bending torment Sam had just put him through) to save his rapist.

The argument was brewing like a stormcloud at Sam's back as he slammed out of the house.

Sam ran for half a mile, laughing hysterically as his pounding feet tore up the ground beneath him. He didn't slow until he screeched to a halt amongst a copse of trees, the thick foliage hiding him from sight as he tried to get the hammer of his emotions under control. He grappled with rage at Dad's interruption, fear at being caught and wild, mad adrenaline from the fact that he had done it; he had shown Dean that he couldn't just parade around like a slut without paying the price, _and he had made his brother succumb to his own torture_.

It was exhilarating, it was bliss! And then, for him to _turn and defend his rapist_? That right there - that was the fucking icing!

He panted for breath, his thoughts jumbled and incoherent as he sorted through the last hour and a half, too high from it all to really come to terms with what he had done. That soft whisper in the back of his mind grew from a murmur to a full out scream of sound and laughter that wasn't his. The dark coil of emotions that confused and raged within him became a cold clarity as the Voice rejoiced in the destruction of the Winchesters.

Sam sat back on his heels, confused that he was thinking of himself in the third person, except...that wasn't right, he wasn't doing that at all - not even close.

The voice that had whispered, planned, goaded and teased him for months now was finally allowing Sam to acknowledge it. It had been playing him, toying with him all this time. All those feelings, that rage, that _want_ \- Sam didn't know how much of it was real, how much was designed to drive him to the edge. He was shaking with icy terror, backpedaling from the oily, oozing presence that had taken root in his soul - but there was nowhere to go. No way to escape it. He tried to pull together the tatter of his thoughts, the roil of his emotions, but was stopped cold by the overwhelming urge to puke, to be violently sick. The hunching need forced him to his hands and knees on the dirt beneath him. His whole body heaved as he choked out a viscous, oily black smoke that streaked away as soon as it was expelled.

It left his mind clearer than it had been in over a year.

In that split second of suspended time, the realization of what he had done crashed over him, and he screamed his horror and loss into the canopy of trees above.

Peal after peal of tormented agony burned from his throat to rape the air around him, his mind wavering apart under the scope of the madness he had lived in, the madness he had created. He cried until he was breathless, his brother's broken, empty gaze following him down to the darkness that engulfed him, his pain too overwhelming for his consciousness to process, forcing him to shut down.

There was nothing left for him now. There was no place he could go, no home that would accept him. There was no way he could accept _himself_.

He fell asleep, exhausted and cried out, beneath the sheltering mantle of scrub trees, haunted by nightmares of the evil he had unleashed upon his family. There was only one answer for what he had done, only one way to fix the mess he had made.

He just had to be prepared, plan it all out right...he had to make sure that he never saw another sunrise.

**Finis**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Made for my dearest varkelton! This started as a request on a comment porn post I made while trying to get the ol' Musie fired up again. She wanted a wee bit o'aggressive (and possibly Evol!) Sammy, so this is what I came up with. She wanted it posted-posted as a fic and finally almost two whole months after I created this for her, it is ready to go. She was also kind enough to beta this (just so I'd get my butt in gear that much faster, lol!) Thank you sweetie - this one is for you! Please forgive the uber lateness! *Kisses* (08-16-10)  
> Disclaimer:I do not own these awesome characters, alas. I am borrowing them for my own vile and evol purposes, but I promise to get them back to Kripke, Gamble & Co. in more or less the same condition I found them in. Story is my own, though the rest is not. No harm intended nor money made!


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